CHAPTER 12:
The crisp air swirled around the open hangar and the morning sun beamed through the soft pink and blue clouds, creating a brilliant contrast to the sleek lines of the ships and speeders the hangar housed. It was an inspiring sight, but all Leia saw was a man. Han Solo to be exact. He was bent over the hood of a speeder, standing next to one of the Alliance's best mechanics, as they tinkered with the broken engine. Oblivious to her, he spoke quietly with the man as they manipulated wires and computer chips. Leia leaned against the leg of an X-Wing and watched him from a safe distance. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled to his elbows, accentuating the definition of his arms, arms he had wrapped around her during the thunderstorm, arms that carried her to safety when she was shot. The muscles in his back pulled against his shirt as he helped the mechanic lift a heavy part of the broken engine, muscles that gave her a sense of security as if Han could carry all the weight of the world on his shoulders and not falter. And his hands. His hands deftly moved over the engine, hands that kept her blood from seeping from her body, hands that fought to keep her alive.
She owed him her life. Again.
Ten months or so, Han Solo had saved her life. It was he who tended to her until trained medics could reach her. It was he that kept her alive until they reached the Falcon with his constant entreats for her to stay awake. It was he who watched over her until she fell into a dreamless sleep. And when they were back at the base and she in the care of the medical droids and technicians of the medical center, Leia sensed his ever-hovering presence.
She had drifted in and out of consciousness, and he was a hand stroking her hair, a thumb brushing her cheek, fingers squeezing hers, then retreating footfalls. He was there. Then through a drug-induced haze, she'd find his silouette leaning against the door as if keeping a vigilance over her until she was lucid and well enough to sit up in bed.
Of course, she had other visitors, members of the High Command, Chewie, and Luke was there, too, always seated by her bedside, entertaining her with stories of the pranks the Rogue Squadron played on each other, holding her hand. And she enjoyed Luke's company, was grateful that he was there for her, but it was Han whom she sought out. His visits were less frequent as her strength returned, and there was something clouding his hazel eyes, an expression on his face that she never saw before.
Guilt. Han Solo felt guilty as if it was his fault she was shot and almost died. Leia wanted to take away his guilt, to tell him that none of what happened to her was his fault, but his feelings were never spoken aloud and she knew he would never give her the chance to ease his self-reproach. It hurt her, though, to see him look at her this way and knowing there was nothing she could do about it. And she felt remorse that she caused him rue, for it was she who insisted that she join the mission in the first place. Even if he protested her presence stronger than he had, there was no way he was going to stop her. Leia was used to getting her way, but she never considered the consequences of her decisions.
Ten months had passed since Han Solo saved her life. Leia was still drawn to him, but it wasn't out of fear so much as it was something else. Her mood lightened and her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She hadn't seen him since she was released from the medical center; he had stopped coming by to see her, which did hurt, but she understood his reason. How would he respond to seeing her now?
Han closed the hood of the speeder and shook hands with the mechanic. He looked in her direction and gave her a wary smile. Leia straightened her posture as he approached her. He wiped his greasy hands on a soiled rag
"So, they finally decided to release you," his voice was forced cheerfulness.
She hid her disappointment with a smile, "Took them long enough. I was going stir-crazy being cooped up like that."
He chuckled, "Guess you're feeling pretty good then."
Leia nodded.
"So what brings you to the hangar?"
"I was looking for you," she tried to sound casual.
"You were, were ya'?" he drawled.
She felt herself blush, "Actually, General Dodonna's looking for you."
"What does he want now?" irritation seeped into his light-hearted tone.
"He was impressed with the outcome of your last mission, the one where you ran supplies to Ardel," she explained. "He said only someone as idiotic and reckless as you could have pulled off that mission."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"I'm sorry I missed that."
A cloud of guilt shadowed his face.
She hurried to change the subject, "Well, he'd like you to head up another supply run."
"What's in it for me?"
Leia rolled her large brown eyes, "That's for you and General Dodonna to work out, Captain."
"Tell him I'll do it."
His immediate response surprised her, "You're not going to wait to see what the General offers you?"
He shrugged and sported a lop-sided grin, "What can I say? I'm a nice guy."
She shook her head and surpressed a smile, "Well, thank you. On behalf of the Alliance."
"Consider the Alliance welcome."
An uncomfortable lull settled between them. Leia's eyes flitted between the rag in his hands and the streak of grease smeared across his cheek.
"Anything else, Your Worship?"
She bit her lip, "You have some dirt on your face."
"Where?" Han lifted the rag to his face.
"Right there," she pointed to his right cheek and he rubbed the rag over his skin. "No," she corrected. "There," she pointed again, and once again, he missed it.
"Here," she took the rag from him and stood on her tip-toes. She gently wiped at the grease spot on his face until it was clean. Once she was finished, she rolled back on her heels and handed him the rag, "There."
Han cleared his throat, "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Leia offered him a closed-mouth smile.
"Anything else?" he asked as she stared up into his eyes.
"Yes," she lifted her chin. "I will be accompaning you on your next mission."
"No, you're not," his firm tone incited a familiar fire in Leia's gut.
"Yes, I am," she insisted with an air of royalty.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Han slammed his fists on his hips and leaned over her.
"As it turns out," she smugly smiled, "you have no say in the matter."
"If I'm leading the mission—"
"Who said you were leading it?" Leia raised an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips.
"Then who is?" Han narrowed his eyes. "I've got to go talk to them."
"You already are."
"What?"
"I'm the one leading the mission," Leia tried to keep the triumph out of her voice but failed.
"Is General Dodonna crazy?"
"Look, Captain," she pointed a finger at him, "I am quite capable of leading this mission, and the only reason you're on this mission is because General Dodonna has it in his mind that you are the best pilot. And since you have experience in smuggling, I agreed to allow you to join the mission."
"Oh, you agreed," Han crossed his arms over his chest.
"Yes."
They assessed each other for a moment.
"Are you sure that's the only reason you agreed?" his eyebrows rose.
"Of course," she sputtered. "What else could it be?"
"Oh…I dunno," the right side of Han's mouth quirked up, "maybe cos you like me."
Her cheeks reddened and she mometarily lost the power of speech.
"Yep," he snapped his fingers, "that must be it."
Leia's heart pounded against her chest. Was she angry because of his arrogance? Or was it because he hit it right on the mark?
"You're delusional," she clenched her fists. "I'd ask Luke, but you're the more experienced one."
"Okay," Han openly smiled at her. "If that's what you want to believe."
"If that's—oh!" Leia clapped her hands against her thighs. "I don't have time to argue with you, Captain! The supplies will be loaded onto the Falcon this afternoon. We leave at oh-six hundred tomorrow." She turned on her heel and retreated.
"Yes, ma'am," he called after her.
Leia's chest rose and fell with each breath as she stormed back to the command center. Her blood was boiling and her stomach was all tied up in knots, but she couldn't say that these sensations were all that unpleasing. Perhaps she'll have to go back later and supervise the loading of the shipment…